


Ferocious, Ravenous, Remorseless

by RoseDragonWitch



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Boredom, Crazy, Darkness, Death, Depression, F/M, FF14 Post Shadowbringers, Longing, Madness, Mental Illness, Mild Smut, Minor Violence, Murder, Obsession, One sided romance, hunger, mild horror elements, steam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseDragonWitch/pseuds/RoseDragonWitch
Summary: No matter how hard he had tried he could not erase her from his mind. The champion of Eorzea… his enemy… his friend. She is occupying his thoughts at all times now and he longs for her to come to him once more. He cares little for the Ascian but his plan has its merits. Especially, if it brings her back to him as well. But he is patient and so he can wait… if only she didn’t enter his thoughts even when he rested.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Ferocious, Ravenous, Remorseless

_“The Final Days?”_

_“Why yes. Admittedly, my Knowledge is mostly secondhand, but if you are interested, I will gladly tell you the tale... The tale of the world's end.”_

He finally had answers to questions he had been curious about his whole life, but in their place rose up even more. He wanted to see if what the Ascian spoke was true… yet he knew better than to push matters too quickly. As impatient as he could be, he knew that the reward for it this time would be grand indeed. And so he contented himself with the knowledge that he had enough to get him by for the time being. He needed to instead focus upon what was waiting for him around the corner.

Seeing the Ascian prance about in the body of someone that he supposing knew was almost entertaining… almost funny. He leapt up over the fallen bodies of those foolish enough to stand between him and the throne and went on with his plans like nothing was happening around them. Instead of the hunting hound that he claimed himself to be, he was more along the lines of a puppy that wanted to please his master.

Or better yet… a court jester.

Still, Zenos let him do as he wished for the plan that he had in mind, while long and tedious, there was some merit there. So he decided that he would play along for the time being. He had already done his part in took the throne, though he had little interest in it.

As the Ascian pointed out though, the Warrior of Light was not likely to stand by if she learned that he was now head of the most dangerous nation in the world. Either the threat of invasion or the injustice of seeing the provinces all being driven into the ground would draw her to him sooner or later.

While there was so much more to the plan than that, he didn’t fear that it would be too much longer before she came for him. So he bid the Ascian to do what he wished and he was finally left alone upon the throne, surrounded with the corpses of those he had slain mere moments before continued to smell of blood and death. At last, it was quiet.

He hated quiet.

Hated stillness.

Such an insufferable monotony. Still, the thought of his reward at the end of this would be well worth it and gave him the strength to put up with it all.

So long as it brought the object of his desires back to him.

He leaned back, not caring for whatever symbol it this seat represented as he rested his head into the palm of his hand as he thought. She continued to occupy his thoughts… though these days his mind was torn between the memories of the dying world and the Sundering as well as with her.

Something that the Ascian had noticed very quickly.

_“Forgive me, my lord,” the Ascian once said as Zenos stood from his seat and proceeded to head to the Throne to begin the next stage of the plan. “But if you don’t mind me asking, why do you focus upon this one warrior? She is no different from the multitude.”_

Oh, how wrong he was about that.

He could still feel it that glorious day. The reason he snuffed out his own life that day was simple… he had reached the highest point that anyone could hope to reach and so he chose to extinguish his own life and fade from this world while that wondrous feeling of transcendent joy sang through his soul.

She had given him that feeling and so it was for that very reason that her eyes were the last thing that he desired to see before welcoming in that blanket of everlasting night that is death. He knew not what it was that caused him to reawaken some time later, however. For no sooner did he welcome his death did he suddenly find himself inhabiting the body of some worthless resistance fighter.

Why did he return?

Those memories will continue to fade from his mind as well as that moment of pure joy. He didn’t wish to let go. But perhaps there was a reason for all that? That he had not yet reach that very pinnacle and that an even more extraordinary feeling was waiting for him? He knew that they could not go back to that moment where their battle shook the very heavens… yet the whispers he had been hearing from within his dreams of a dying world seemed to be singing to him of another way. Something even more magnificent if he only agreed to wait a little longer before accepting death.

That this time the battle will set the very world ablaze and that their dance will make their previous one seem empty in comparison.

For the first time, he decided to listen to the siren’s call of the countless screams of the dead.

It was that thought alone that kept him going even as the dull hollowness began to settle in his chest once more.

After a lifetime of emptiness he had found the one treasure that this world could offer that he wanted. He wanted her here… with her in this world he felt as if the empty void inside him was filling up and everything seemed so clear. She was the one shining creature that gave him a reason to want to live, if only to see the light sucked away from her lifeless eyes.

And so, once he returned to Garlemald to reclaim what was rightfully his and learned of Hydealyn and Zodiark, he understood what must be done.

He knew the role that he had to place to see that future come to pass. And if slaying his own sire was the first step to reach that point… he gladly cut him down without question. He also made sure to destroy every last trace of the Black Rose to ensure that his prey did not have anything else distracting her.

So it was for that reason he did decide to answer the Ascian, if only for him to understand that she was off limits.

_“She belongs to me,” he answered simply._

The Ascian just laughed.

“Like great-grandfather, like great-grandson,” he said with a clap of his hands, “It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye. Oh, that oh-so-morbid Emet-Selch and how he fussed over that warrior… convinced that she was something special… that she was someone dear to him. Well, I don’t know who she was back then, but I only wish that I could have seen the look on his face when she finished him off.”

He then began to laugh wildly at the thought before bowing to him and seeing Zenos set off.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Wait and she will appear eventually.

He sighed, reluctant to close his eyes again. The darkness does not change with them open or closed, and if he closes his eyes he might fall asleep again. It is so easy to fall asleep these days, to drift once more to the edge of death, to walk the streets of a burning city. The dreams of the world’s end had come to him so often that he had grown used to the sounds and sights of death. At this point, the dream is little more than a familiar tune, an ignited lullaby that welcomed one into a world of endless nightmares. Hellish to behold but one who learned to tune out all throughout their childhood.

Sometimes though when he dreams, he is not greeted by the fiery end of the world’s end. Instead, there is more darkness, more quiet… more peace. He dreaded that dream more than that of the world on fire. At least that one had something interesting happening in it. This here was just… more emptiness.

Still, he had been up for several days now and has become tired. So he gives in and decides to close his eyes, wondering just what would be waiting for him when he does come too.

To his great surprise, he is not greeted by either of them. Instead, he remains upon the throne, with the dead and puddles of blood splattered around them, already drying in this dank air. He could feel it more than see it at this point… someone was coming for him.

He remained still, waiting…?

And then the doors at the other end of the hall opened as if one command.

Ah, she was here.

She stood before him… the champion of Eorzea… their beloved hero… dressed all in white with a tight corset around her thin waist. The dress she wore was short up in the front to reveal her legs but left a long train that just dragged upon the ground as she walked towards him. Her hair was set free and flowed down her back, wild and carefree as he knew her spirit to truly be. She was barefooted as well, stepping through the pools of blood as they dyed her feet ruby and splattered upon the white cloth.

The very image of a goddess of death.

He did not move as she slowly approached him, his eyes trailing over her form… over the scars that crisscrossed her body and the way that walked as if she were above them all. Between the two of them, mayhaps she was the one who more deserved to sit upon this throne.

Something that she seemed to agree with for she drew level with him as he finally moved back, curious to see what she would do. She came to him, straddling his lap as she joined him upon the carved seat and looked expectantly at him.

“My friend…” he purred as she blinked evenly at him, like how a cat would when she knew that she was the one in charge.

“Were you waiting long?” she asked him, her voice soft and it sent an actual chill of pleasure through his chest at the sound of it.

“Far too long,” he informed her, one of her feet dangling off the throne and brushed up against the sword that he still kept embedded in the floor, reflecting her in the shining blade as perfectly as any mirror, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself in close.

Her scent… he couldn’t put a trace of where he knew it. There was something strangely floral… like funeral flowers mixed in with the scent of dried blood that one could not clear away no matter how many times you try to wash it off.

The sweetest of scents to him.

He let his hands rest upon her thighs before moving up her body curiously. He could feel the muscle underneath the cloth and leather… could feel the strength of her body the more that he touched her.

He had had his pick of women before in the past whenever he wanted… but they had all been frail and useless things. Most didn’t even survive the night with him before he was done. But she…? Oh, for the first time he found himself overcome with a longing desire that he could not express. He wanted her here with him in this dark room filled with blood until the end of time.

He could not help himself as his hands roamed her body, feeling the power that was locked within this skin…? His hands were up her bare arms… to her shoulders… and soon found their place around her throat. He did nothing but hold them there as she gazed back with twinkling eyes… as if daring him to try.

“You don’t wish to move too fast now, do you, Lord Zenos?” she purred to him and he smirked at that.

“Perhaps,” he answered back as he let his hands slide back down the path that they took to get there so that he was holding her against him once more… her clothes becoming even more stained with blood with every touch he gave her… when did his hands become so bloody, he wondered?

“What do you wish for?” she asked him curiously, her fingers playing about with his long hair as he gazed back into the eyes that shone like the stars with that ever-present flame of the warrior he knew her to be flickering strongly.

She merely smiled as her hands moved up to his chest and he could all but feel the burning sensation through the armor at her lightest touch. How his life had become so exquisite the moment she entered it. He longed for her to remain here… with him… either as a constant battle goes before them or as the sweetest of lovers… it mattered not to him. All he wanted was for her to be here with him… whether that be by force or willingly.

She just moved in closer to him, her body pressed tightly against his own as he tasted her for the first time. So rich and decadent as if one had tasted the very nectar of the gods. It was not the same as it was from their last battle, but he could feel his own spirits rising as if upon a spinning tempest and threatening to race the wind itself to the heavens…?

And then he felt something cold and sharp against his neck. He knew what it was… and realized that she had used herself as a distraction to get this close. How else could she manage to pull the knife on him?

But still, he did not pull away from her lips right away. He took his time and felt every part of her mouth before he could feel the impatient digging into his neck. Finally, he pulled back, opening his eyes as she smiled back, a slight glint of the knife reflecting off her face and giving her a deadly chill to it.

He merely smirked back.

“Beautiful,” he whispered before red splashed about them and she slit his throat.

He would have to be more careful for next time. He sighed, knowing that he could not have both sides to her before this was over… while it would be interesting to see… he knew she was not the type to surrender herself to him like that. But… he liked that thought better that way… for she was a wild beast and knowing that each moment that she spent with him could be his last…?

His heart began to beat a little quicker at the thought.

He opened his eyes to see that he was all alone but for the dead that littered the hall.

“It has been too, too long, my friend… and insufferably dull in your absence,” he sighed. “When you return to me, you will share everything. Every blow will be a story unto itself. Every triumph. Every kill.”

He then sat up and grabbed at the sword that was still embedded in the floor and swung it high over him until he could see his own face reflected back in the blade. Whatever else that useless Yotsuyu was, she did present to him one fine blade.

“Rest assured we shall have a fitting stage for our reunion,” he vowed before bringing the blade down upon one of the coins that the Ascian threw about like confetti and the coin split into a perfect half as his heart began to race once more… the dream having lit a fire inside him that he had not felt for some time.

“Oh, yes,” he purred out, “To reprise that transcendent moment, I will set this world ablaze. And we shall dance before the pyre.”

No matter what else happened, that woman was his and his alone. She was his one true friend… his enemy… his treasure.

Before this story was over, they will face against each other once more and he shall have everything from her.

**(It's a short story but I needed to try something different from my usual writing and decided a little steam might be good for me. I had my own character in mind for this, but I wrote it in a way that just about anyone could picture their own. What do you think? I know not everyone is a fan of Zenos, but he, I think that it's actually a pretty interesting topic in the fact that I've always seen Zenos as like the Joker from Batman. How he is just so single-mindedly obsessed with the hero and that imagine a world without them. Anyway, let me know what you think and if there are any other suggestions for short stories that you may be wanting to share? I will be taking a break from the big long stories for a time and any stories that I work with for the time being will be only a few chapters long at most.)**


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